


i’m not good at a one night stand

by everythingislove (straykid)



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff and Humor, The Morning After a One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:12:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straykid/pseuds/everythingislove
Summary: Of two things Isak is absolutely certain:1. He’s never drinking anything recommended by Magnus again.2. The boxers he’s wearing are not his own.





	i’m not good at a one night stand

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not exactly sure how this fic happened. i just started writing and then all of a sudden it was a finished drabble. at any rate, i hope you all enjoy!!
> 
> (fyi—even though this is set the morning after a one night stand, there’s no smut or detailed discussions of sex because i am too Soft for that.)

Of two things Isak is absolutely certain:

  1. He’s never drinking anything recommended by Magnus again.
  2. The boxers he’s wearing are not his own.



It takes no small effort to roll himself over onto his side, every part of his body aching in protest. He peers against the light sleeping through the slightly parted curtains. They’re an obnoxious yellow color that Eskild would find hideous. This isn’t the kollektiv.

Which is. Something. Because he’s in an apartment he doesn’t recognize, wearing boxers that aren’t his, and has the worst hangover of his fucking life.

Isak has never done the whole one night stand thing before. He might not exemplify domesticity or be ready to consider marriage yet, but he prefers stable relationships over flings. His flighty father made sure that he would never be the casual sex type. Waking up like this feels like a practical joke.

But he knows it’s not some prank set up by his friends, because when he really focuses, he can remember the man. Or—vaguely remember the man. He remembers getting onto the tips of his toes to kiss him. Stumbling into a dirty bathroom stall with him. Doing unspeakable things in that dirty bathroom with him. Nodding eagerly when asked if he wanted to head home with him. If he thinks even harder (he really doesn’t want to, since his head fucking throbs) he even remembers straddling the stranger’s lap on the very bed he’s still lying in and giving consent.

He should be grateful, and he is, because he knows that a lot of people wouldn’t have been as lucky as him. Isak’s eighteen, but he’s not dumb. The world is an evil place with evil people; some of whom might not have cared about consent from a young drunk boy. Reminding himself of that seems to ease some of the tightness from his chest.

Isak pushes himself into a sitting position, with his legs dangling over the side of the bed. He runs a hand back through his wild hair, scanning the room for his shirt. If he’s going to do the walk of shame, he’s at least going to do it with some of his dignity in tact.

Of course, because the universe fucking hates him, he can’t spot his shirt or jeans anywhere. He does, however, notice the open closet just a few feet away.

There’s no way that Isak is leaving this room while only wearing underwear that don’t belong to him. So he stands up, makes his way over, and pulls out the first shirt he sees. It’s a plain white t-shirt, which he figures is inconspicuous enough. Plus, it smells incredible.

He straightens his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and musters up what small amount of confidence he can. Though his feet suddenly feel heavy, he forces himself to walk toward the door.

When he finally steps out into the hallway, he realizes he has no idea where to go. He doesn’t want to accidentally open the door to a roommates room or stumble upon anything he shouldn’t, so he freezes momentarily.

Only when he takes another deep breath does he hear it; the faint sound of Gabrielle's _5 fine frøkner._ Isak never thought that he would actually be happy to hear that awful song.

His feet start to move on their own accord, and against his better judgement, he finds himself humming the tune faintly. It’s odd, because not only does Isak loathe the musical stylings of Gabrielle, but he’s not the type to hum on his best days—let alone in the morning, before drinking any coffee, and while nursing an intense hangover.

Isak shakes his head ever so slightly, wincing to himself. It does the job in snapping himself back into focus, both his humming and racing thoughts halting at once.

The sound is louder now, and he finds himself standing in the doorway of the kitchen moments later. He spots the man from last night immediately, and somehow knows it’s him even though he hasn’t turned around.

His mouth opens and promptly closes. Opens. Closes. Opens. And closes again. Isak’s heart is hammering in his chest, his mind blank on anything intelligent to say. He needs to get the man’s attention, but he’s still singing along to the song, completely oblivious.

He decides to try the subtle strategy of clearing his throat. It ends up sounding more as if he’s choking, and it’s definitely nothing sexy like he’s seen on TV, but it gets the job done regardless. Stranger glances over his shoulder, completely surprising Isak when a grin takes over his face.

“Good morning,” the man says. (He’s fucking gorgeous, by the way. With perfect hair, and perfect teeth, and perfect eyes, and the kind of voice that’s smoother than velvet.) He switches the burner in front of him off, and then turns around to properly face him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up already.”

“Oh, uh,” Isak shifts on his feet. “I might have slept more if it weren’t for this awful fucking headache. I don’t know why I agreed to let my friend choose my drinks last night.”

“I’ve got friends like that,” stranger man smiles sympathetically. “I’m Even, by the way. You’re looking at me like you don’t remember.”

Isak’s cheeks burn. “I’m sorry.”

Even lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. If I hadn’t chugged some water right before we left together, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t remember your name either.” He turns back around then, scooping something out of the pan he’d left on the stove and onto two plates. “Could I interest you in some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” Isak echoes dumbly. He wishes he knew more about the etiquette for moments like this—the mornings after.

“It’s eggs,” Even continues. He either hasn’t yet noticed that Isak is a completely awkward person, or he’s respectfully ignoring it. “We have a family secret ingredient that we’ve used for generations.”

“Really?” Isak mindlessly steps into the kitchen, away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “What is it?”

Even looks back at him again, this time with a serious expression. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Isak’s mouth goes completely dry. Fucking wonderful. He’s slept with a psychopath. He doesn’t know whether to scream, run, or call Jonas. Or maybe do all of the above, for that matter.

“I’m joking,” Even laughs again. “I’m not a giant creep, you can relax. It’s sour cream.”

“Sour cream in eggs?” Isak scrunches his nose up, eyeing the plate Even offers to him cautiously. He’s relieved, but skeptical. “I haven’t thrown up yet this morning, and I really wouldn’t like to start because of some scrambled eggs.”

“It’s really good,” Even promises. “Try one bite, and if you hate it I’ll make you some toast instead.”

Without waiting for Isak to decide, he grabs the spatula he’d been cooking with and scoops a small amount off one of the plates. He walks toward Isak—mindful not to drop any—and offers it up to him.

Isak hesitantly takes the bite. He’s surprised to find that they actually taste good. “There’s really sour cream in them? They’re fucking great.”

Even nods, his entire face brightening. “I’m glad you like them.”

Isak finds himself nodding too, though he’s not sure why. Apparently he’s just that awkward. “Um—”

“Here,” Even turns around, grabbing both plates off of the counter. “Let’s sit? I already have some coffee waiting at the table. Well—coffee for you, tea for me. It’s black since I wasn't sure how you like it, but there’s sugar and creamer on the table if you want it.”

“Black is fine,” Isak says. He drinks coffee for the caffeine, not the taste. “Thanks,” he adds after a moment.

Even’s grin widens impossibly. He sets the plates down at the table, gesturing for Isak to sit. “Make yourself at home.”

Isak doesn’t know what to make of any of this. He’s glad that Even isn’t being awkward about the situation, but he can’t help feeling awkward anyways. This is unchartered territory for him, and he’s blindly following Even’s lead.

“ _Takk,_ ” he finally murmurs, sitting across from him. “I’m really sorry about this.”

Even cocks his head to the side, resembling a confused puppy dog. “Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

Isak swallows thickly. He reaches for the fork, focusing on scooping a small bite of egg onto it. “I probably should have left last night, right? That’s how these things go?”

He spares a glance up at Even, and to his surprise, the man leans forward earnestly. Their eyes meet, and Isak momentarily forgets what air is.

“I would have been upset if you had left last night,” Even says sincerely. “I hope you don’t regret last night. I would never want to make you feel… forced. I thought you were sober enough to give consent, but I was still pretty drunk.”

“I know you didn’t force me,” Isak quickly assures, his eyes widening slightly. “I only meant—I haven’t done this before. I’m not sure how it’s supposed to go.”

Even’s lips curl into an amused smile. “Well, that’s good. I’ve never done this either.”

Isak exhales, trying to hide his relief. “You haven’t?”

“No,” Even takes a bite of his eggs, watching Isak carefully. “I got out of a relationship a few months ago. I had been with her since I was fourteen.”

“What happened?” Isak asks before he can stop himself.

“She started mothering me,” Even shrugs, scrunching his nose up. “Would you want to fuck your mother?”

Mutely, Isak shakes his head.

“Exactly,” Even sighs. “I don’t know that we were ever really compatible. We had been together for so long—five years—that we were comfortable with one another, but I wanted more. Passion. Heat. The kind of stuff you see in the movies.”

“So you’re a movie fan,” Isak notes, not sure how else to respond.

“I’m a film major. I want to be a director,” Even says. “I think the industry could use more diversity. There’s not nearly enough representation for LGBTQ+ characters.”

“And that’s important to you,” Isak nods in understanding.

“I’m pansexual, and I was raised by two moms,” Even cracks a wry smile. “It’s really important to me.”

“That’s really great,” Isak shoves a forkful of food into his mouth to refrain from grinning.

“What about you?” Even asks.

“Huh?”

“What’s important to you?”

Isak laughs uncomfortably. “We’re having a pretty deep conversation considering that I’m sitting here in your boxers.”

Even’s expression turns apologetic. “They’re clean, I gave them to you before we fell asleep last night. I popped your clothes into the dryer earlier—they should be done soon. They were kind of gross.”

“That was nice of you,” Isak says after a beat. Everything about Even—about the entire morning, really—seems far too good to be true.

Finally, without giving himself any time to reconsider, he says, “Science. Science is important to me.”

“Science?” Even appears thoughtful. “Why?”

_Because my entire childhood was so full of uncertainties that I feel like I can only trust facts._

“I guess it’s just interesting,” Isak tests a sip of his coffee. It burns the roof of his mouth, but he embraces the sting. “I like the universe. I like thinking about how big it is, and how much we don’t know.”

“You enjoy that?” Even balks. “That stuff freaks me out. I actually think I used to have nightmares about disappearing into a black hole when I was younger.”

“I think it’s nice,” Isak admits. “The universe represents an infinite number of possibilities. There could even be other universes out there that we haven’t discovered.”

“Is that what you want to do? Discover them?”

“No,” Isak sets the mug down, resting his chin in his palm. “I don’t think so. There’s always the possibility that they don’t exist, and then I’d have dedicated my entire life to something pointless. It’s impractical. But I still like thinking about it.”

“Who told you it was impractical?” Even’s brows furrow, and he looks genuinely concerned.

“You sound more like a psychology major than a film major right now,” Isak jokes. It’s a poor attempt to avoid the question, but it works.

“I’m a double major,” Even admits. “How about you?”

“I’m in my third year at Nissen,” Isak drums his fingers gently against his cheek. “I don’t know what I’m going to major in yet. I’m not even sure I want to go to college.”

It’s fucking weird to be having this conversation with a stranger when he hasn’t even told his best friends any of this yet. Even is so easy to talk to, though, that the words come pouring out.

“You could always take a gap year,” Even nudges their feet together under the table. “Travel to amazing places, do wild things. I’ve heard Morocco is pretty damn cool. I wish I had done that; I’d love to see the world.”

“An aspiring director with wanderlust,” Isak lets out a soft laugh. “That sounds like a movie in itself. Maybe that’s the one you should make someday.”

“Maybe,” Even sets his fork down. “I’m really enjoying this, Isak.”

Hearing his name leave Even’s lips for the first time sends a pleasant shiver right down his spine. “I’m enjoying this too,” he manages. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Do you think we could do it again?” Even asks. It takes him a few seconds to realize what he’s accidentally implied. “Not the sex part, but the talking-and-a-meal part. Not that the sex wasn’t good! It was great, you were great—”

“Even.”

“—especially that thing with your mouth. But you seem like a really good person, and I want to get to know you better—”

“Even!” Isak tries again, raising his voice slightly. It works, as Even’s mouth clamps shut. “I’d love to go on a date with you. Alright?”

Even’s shoulders slump with relief. “That’s great.”

“Under one condition.”

“Condition?”

Isak nods seriously. “You never play Gabrielle when I’m around again.”

Even pulls a playful face of offense. “You don’t like Gabrielle? The best artist of this generation?”

Isak snorts.

“I bet I could change your mind,” Even says. “In fact, I know I can change your mind.” It’s a challenge that Isak can’t pass up.

“Alright,” Isak quirks a brow. “Change my mind, then.”

Even stands up, rounding the table so that he can pull Isak up too. “Come on. I need to have your full cooperation or you’re cheating.”

Isak can’t smother his grin this time. “Fine,” he amends, allowing Even to pull him toward the counter wear the speaker is. Even pulls his phone out, and moments later, Gabrielle's _5 fine frøkner_ is playing once more.

Even resumes his ridiculous dancing and lip syncing from before, only this time he does so only inches from Isak’s face. While Isak tries to avert his gaze in an effort to keep his composure, when he finally meets Even’s eyes, he knows he’s a goner.

He doesn’t know who leans in first, but suddenly their lips are crashing together, and they’re sharing a feverish kiss. Isak brings his hand up to cup the back of Even’s neck while Even rests his hands on his hips, and he’s struck by the realization that they fit near perfectly together like this.

They must stay like that for a while, because the song draws to a close before they’ve parted. Instead of staying off, however, it quickly restarts itself.

Isak manages to lean his head back just enough to catch his breath then, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “You put it on loop, didn’t you?”

Even smirks. “I told you I could change your mind,” he says, before reconnecting their lips.

(They makeout against the counter until Even’s dryer interrupts them with its obnoxious buzzer. And when Even insists the clothes need another wash before Isak can wear them home, well. Isak doesn’t protest.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated :)


End file.
